The Other Side
by Arinya
Summary: Happening upon Snape in the worst of circumstances, a muggle civilian is given a crash course in Magic. Despite best efforts to stay away from each other- the universe keeps redirecting their paths.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: (1) JKR's work is not mine. I don't intend to make $ with it. (2) There will be bad language. (3) I can't emphasize enough, this is for _fun_.

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He tore through the forest, crushing the twigs and dry leaves beneath his boots. He ran to the beat of the pounding blood in his ears. The tattoo was pierced by faint cries in the background. He poured his focus into scanning the landscape ahead of him, but he could hardly see in the inky darkness as blood steadily dripped over his eye and down his face.

"I see him!"

Gasping in pain, he twisted around to shoot a curse. Red light shot out haphazardly from his wand, arcing into the darkness. The shouts became louder. He dove to the side as a beam of light shot over his shoulder and into a tree, leaving a large smoldering crater.

He exchanged fire with his assailants, snarling one curse after another, hoping it would fend them off long enough so he could gather his wits and disapparate. He let out a growl of pain as spikes of shattered wood sprayed his collarbone. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, and the effort of taking another breath was enormous. He rolled over and took cover behind a large tree. The denial of his dire straits was now coming loose. There was no one on his side, only forces amassing against him. He sat with his back against the hard wood, surrounded by the acrid smell of burning bark.

His mind was becoming cloudy. But he picked up the novel chorus of screams, rising from the east. The sounds of distant chaos and destruction echoed.

"Shit," one of his attackers cursed.

"There must have been a muggle encampment here, we'll have to go back"

"But he's _right_ here!" the other argued.

"The Death Eater isn't as important as innocents!-"

Severus hoped fervently that the Aurors would leave quickly, but the over-zealous one seemed determined to argue. He had imagined his death would come about in many gruesome and ignoble ways, but he couldn't die like this. Like a beaten cur on the street. He absolutely refused. Yet despite his adamant mental rages, he couldn't hardly muster the physical strength and coordination needed to escape.

Amid the flashes of light, he suddenly saw a figure standing in front of him. It was impossible to make out of the features, but it kept appearing closer and closer with each eminence. Severus felt an overwhelming fear creep up from his stomach. He was defenseless, dying, and this apparition was about the deal the final blow. The ghost drew closer to him. The eyes were large and luminous, reflecting back the Morsmordre that now covered the sky. Was this his fucking personal demon, in the shape of a woe-begotten woman, come to drag him down into the depths of hell?

He let out a strangled guttural cry as cold hands wrapped themselves his neck, and he lashed out, punching the very corporeal ghost.

The ghost screamed, and the Aurors snapped back to attention, resuming their hunt.

"P-Please," came a feminine voice, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm trying to help"

It didn't matter much to him anymore. He was taking shallow childlike breaths, and each was making it paradoxically harder for him to take the next one. His head was swimming, and he raised his arm in a feeble attempt to beat off the ghost. The ghost's hands were all over his neck, probing.

"Come on, Death Eater! You won't get out of this one alive!" taunted the Auror.

"-the hell," the ghost muttered, and yanked a wooden barb out of his chest.

"Unngh," moaned Severus.

And then the ghost stabbed him with it, shoving something else into the wound. The treacherous wench- he made to grab the slender neck and throttle it before it could finish him. There was pain, but if he wasn't mistaken, it was starting to get easier to breath.

"I've got you," came a quiet murmur of satisfaction, and Severus glimpsed an eerily light image of the Auror's face, hovering over him.

He had no choice. With the last ounce of will, he thought of towers and dungeons, and the Auror was left stomping his feet and fuming in rage as there was a tiny _blip_.

His consciousness exited the vortex, and returned to screaming. But this was ear-splitting, not some far off sound. A figure was lying, curled in on itself in front of him. It writhed and yelled in pain. He miraculously didn't feel any splinched bits of himself, and noticed blood pooling underneath the other person. He reached for them, his fingers just grazing their side. They turned. Her face was ashen, framed in a messy array of dark hair and blood. She clutched her arm, which ended in a red spurting stump.

"_Constringo_," he managed to cough out.

Black straps appeared in the air and provided a tight touniquet for limb. The woman was trying to rein in her cries and cradled the arm as she looked to her partner. Severus had long since passed out and lay sprawled in the grass. The woman, now brought a bit closer to reality, took a brief look at the landscape. It was all tranquil darkness and rolling hills. Lights in the distance from, could she really believe it? A castle.

She glanced at her handiwork in Severus' chest- a hollow pen was lodged beneath his ribs. It wouldn't hold for long though, and she grabbed his arm with her good hand, and attempted to haul him over to the castle. A full grown man was far too heavy for her to lug anywhere, and she collapsed into the cold grass. The adrenaline, which had briefly kept the searing pain of her wound at bay was leaving her now, and she fell into darkness.

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Erin woke slowly. Everything was too bright. She saw white images and white, and winced, raising her arm to cover her face. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes and the cobwebs in her head. The sight that materialized before her was comforting in its familiarity. A hospital bed with clean white sheets. A white curtain drawn around the bed. A small rolling cabinet with what she could only assume were medical supplies. There was something she felt was missing from the sight, but she couldn't quite place it. She went to rub her arms from the psychic chill she had gotten, and then looked down at her limbs. Her left hand was gone. In its place was a clean white cloth bandage. She suddenly felt ill.

So it wasn't a nightmare. Her hand was gone. She felt her heart beat convert to a pound, and she became shaky as she got up quickly. She used her good hand to swipe the curtain away and walked on the stone floor barefoot to the next bed. The man was lying in it, asleep. It really wasn't a nightmare. It was bloody real.

She stood transfixed at the spot. He was horribly disfigured, with a swollen and split lip and black and blue bruises all over his jaw line. She had never in her career seen someone so badly beaten. It was then she realized what was missing from the scene. There were no machines. No heart monitor, no respirator. Just a man in a bed. She squatted and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Wake up," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Wake up!" she hissed.

He grimaced and opened his eyes just so they were black slits.

"Poppy," he half-groaned and half-shouted, his voice deep and gravelly.

Erin didn't manage to hightail it out of there before she was confronted with the large frame of another woman.

"Oh my, you're awake," this woman said mildly.

"I-," Erin said

"You need to rest. It was quite an attack you and Severus survived," the matronly woman, who looked to be in some modified nurses' uniform, walked her to her bed and forced her back into it.

"Is he going to live?" was somehow Erin's first question.

The stranger wore a tight smile.

"He'll pull through"

"My hand," she said next. She couldn't help from asking about it, despite knowing she was in a strange place.

The woman gave her a look of full of sympathy, "I'm sorry dear, but we couldn't recover it. ...it won't be possible to go back to the site you lost it until it's cleared by the Aurors, and by then...well, it'll be too late to re-attach"

Erin didn't know what to say.

"Now rest," she said sternly, and suddenly Erin felt the irresistible urge to sleep, and she did.

Her last thought was whether she'd could throw a stitch one-handedly.

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><p>Constringo- to bind<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The title may change a few times because I'm not sure what to put. You may have to CTRL-B to make it easier to track.

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><p>The next reemergence was more predictable. She felt better, stronger... She opened her eyes blearily, greeted by the sight of hospital curtains and sunlight gently filling the entire space with bright light. She yawned as she propped herself up in bed.<p>

This sensation was wrong. She looked for her missing appendage and gagged in horror as she saw a silver item in its place. It was a hand, made up of the the infinitesimal scales of silver, and it seemed to be moving at her accord, but it wasn't _her_ hand. She held it up, staring at it in a combination of awe and fright. She flexed the hand experimentally. The individual scales rearranged themselves quickly to allow the movement. _Impossible_

The one who had put her to sleep was here again.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Erin turned her arm slowly, examining the work, trying to logic how it was functioning. The sleeve of her gown fell back as she raised her hand a bit higher. She traced the seam of the metal to the flesh, not finding any palpable means of attachment.

"I know it's a shock," the woman continued in a kind voice. "But it's an excellent reconstruction.

The Headmaster's own handiwork, along with mine of course!"

Erin touched her face and swore the metal hand could feel the borders of the scar a childhood bicycle-accident left on her cheek.

"It's amazing," she replied, somewhat breathlessly.

"How long have I been here?" she asked.

"About a week, we were lucky there weren't any students staying over the Summer. I had you under an extended sleep in order to have the reconstruction done, so you lost most of the time there. I'm Madam Pomfrey, dear. We haven't managed to complete introductions"

"Erin...Erin Coffrey," said Erin said, extending a hand.

She received a tentative handshake in return. It didn't seem to be the normal greeting in these parts.

"Where's your wand?" Pomfrey suddenly asked.

Erin hoped her eyes hadn't bulged out of her sockets.

"I-" she said dumbly.

The milliseconds that elapsed felt like an eternity.

"I lost it, in the struggle," she finished, hoping it didn't fall too flat.

Thankfully, Pomfrey nodded.

"I see our patient is looking well!"

Erin whipped her head towards the direction of the new voice. From a doorway further off, two men came walking up to them. The speaker was a wizened older man, dressed in a complete set of flowing purple robes, topped off with a small conical hat. Flanking this one was _him_. The crumpled figure she had see in the woods. The one who had socked her right in the face. She twisted her neck to shrug off a mental crick. He was of medium height, with an incredibly pale complexion and lank black hair that ended just before his shoulders. For someone so young, he had an incredibly severe face. It aged him. His nose was definitely the next dominant feature. She was sure it made for a striking silhouette. He wore a black frock coat that was lined with several buttons that went nearly up to his throat. _Strange garb_, she thought.

He peered out at her with keen eyes. He didn't seem to appreciate her critical gaze, and gently pursed his lips in what could be mistaken for a smirk.

"Are you feeling quite ill?" he asked in a slow, deliberate sarcasm.

"You look remarkably better," Erin said, ignoring his thinly veiled statement and training her eyes on every visible aspect of Snape's figure.

The face had been restored, though she suspected he had broken his nose during some previous encounter. His posture was stiff, but upright. His gait had been alarmingly graceful for one so injured just recently. In the one week Madam Pomfrey had alleged she was asleep, this man had been nearly completely renewed. She was now slowly building up a wall of denial, behind which the matter of her metal hand, her violent encounter with this man, magical flashes of light in the air, and now his miraculous recovery were being placed. Her goal now, she thought to herself, was to wake up from the bizarre dream or more alarmingly, get away from these people as quickly as possible.

There was a silence amid the party as she was deep in thought.

"Thank you," Snape said shortly, breaking the tension.

She didn't know whether the overly succinct statement was because he detested speaking, or if he didn't mean it.

"Likewise," she said, recalling the trick with the tourniquet.

There was a polite noise of someone clearing their throat, and the one in the robes stepped forward.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"

Erin neatly threw that statement behind her quickly straining wall.

She nodded and introduced herself and was also rewarded with the younger man's name. Severus Snape.

She was suddenly reminded of how she hated these types of interactions, where there was a distinct power difference between herself and the others. She was the patient, in bed, so there was both a chasm of knowledge and height between them. She straightened up some more, determined not to put herself at any more of a disadvantage than she was at already.

"It was a valiant thing you did, saving Severus' life. Although I've never seen such a technique before, very...imaginative," said Dumbledore.

Erin realized he was speaking of the make-shift chest tube.

She took a breath to calm her nerves.

"If I had my wand," The word sounded ridiculous, "things would have been different"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore in a more subdued tone.

"I took the liberty of preparing this charmed bracelet, which has a strong Glamour on it to disguise the reconstruction," he said and produced a petite gold cuff. She tentatively put it on and to her amazement, found herself looking at a fleshy hand.

"Sir," she said quickly, before he could begin again. "Thank you for the hand and your care," she turned to Pomfrey to acknowledge her. "... at this time, I would like to return home".

"Of course, Ms. Coffrey. However, there is no apparating on school grounds. I can arrange for you to be taken to the borders. Where are you from exactly? Your accent is quite distinctive"

Thousands of miles from where she really considered home, she now acutely began to feel the ache of homesickness. She didn't know if she was longingly referring to her temporary one or to her small familiar apartment in the city.

"I've taken some time off from work and I'm living in London at the moment. But I did grow up in the United States."

Did the States even exist here? What if she was in another dimension entirely. Images of transporters and alien flashed through her mind. The thought that she was just having an elaborately bizarre dream surfaced again and she surreptitiously dug her thumbnail into her finger, attempting to wake up.

Dumbledore nodded.

"You've got a long journey ahead of you. I'd like to clear some things up however. Ms. Coffrey, would you mind recounting how you came to meet Severus"

Erin licked her lips. She was so close.

"Sure. I was camping near the woods. I went looking for some firewood. I hadn't walked so far in before hearing people yelling nonsense and seeing flashes in the night." The two men shared knowing glances and a look of relief at this. "I saw him, Severus, lying against a tree, obviously injured. I'm a physician, so I provided first aid"

"We're very thankful for your intervention and deeply sorry for the wound you received. The reconstruction is a small gift. It will not break down unless in rare cases of exceptional sabotage, or in the event of your death. I'm sure you've noticed by now, the basic sensations are present. However, it is mostly impervious to extremes of temperature and pain-"

But halfway through this, Snape's eyes narrowed and he was shooting her suspicious glances.

"A what?" he asked very calmly, once Dumbledore finished.

"A doctor, like Madam Pomfrey," said Erin, a bit irritatedly.

She could see the atmosphere shift and the previously grandfatherly attention Dumbledore had been showering on her disappeared. She then realized her mistake. She leapt out of bed, and almost tripped catastrophically on the sheets as she made a break for the door. The others sans Snape were caught off guard, and it was he who grabbed her by the shoulder and held her at wandpoint.

"She's a muggle!" said Snape viciously.

There was a horrified gasp from Pomfrey, who now touched Dumbledore's arm.

"Albus, the Statute!" she said.

Although it was just a stick of polished black wood that was leveled at her head, Erin felt as if she were being held by a gunman. There was real intention in Snape's movements. He had a vice grip on her, and though she tried to jerk herself away, he held on tightly.

"Headmaster," said Snape.

They were going to kill her.

"I saved your life!" she shouted at him, "I saved your fucking life, and I'll be damned if you're going to zap my head for it!"

Her entire body trembled as she railed against him.

"Headmaster?" he asked again.

She heard a sigh from the old man.

"She's called in your life debt," he said to Severus, "You know what this means"

"Surely, that archaic law does not apply in these circumstances," said Snape in an even voice.

"It most certainly does," said Dumbledore.

She stared at Snape's unreadable face, and stumbled backwards trying to regain her balance as he roughly released her.

"As per my life debt, I shall not remove your memories" he intoned, but she was sure it was laden with the utmost loathing of the turn of events.

Dumbledore held up a hand signalling peace.

"Ms. Coffrey, calm your nerves. Due to the nature of your contract with Severus, he is bound to his word. We will not harm you"

There was no way Erin would be able to rest easy, but the way Snape had acquiesced really did make it appear that she had stumbled upon a way to keep herself safe...relatively.

"I want to leave," she said strongly, emphasizing each word.

Dumbledore slowly closed the space between the two of them.

"My dear. I apologize for the horrible way you came to find out about the wizarding world. But what you stumbled upon was a delicate thing that I must ask you never to speak of outside of this circle. It is imperative that you understand I am completely serious about this one requirement."

"Fine," she said tightly, "I won't speak of this with anyone else"

"I'm going to require you take the Unbreakable Vow to your silence. This is a spell that will holds the people involved to keep their promises"

"This is no small deed," said Snape softly, "The Unbreakable Vow is called thus because if it is violated, the castee is punished with their death"

"But you won't let me go unless I agree to this," she said.

"There are events in place that you cannot be permitted to alter, even by accident," said Dumbledore.

"Fine," she repeated.

"If you would give me your hand," said Dumbledore, extending his.

He lightly grasped her wrist much in Roman fashion. She clasped his cautiously in return, still keeping her distance from him. He looked at Snape, who slowly pulled his wand to point at their hands.

"Swear that you will never speak of this world with someone who does not know what it is," said Snape.

"I swear"

A thin line of red firelike light streaked out from the tip of Snape's wand and wrapped itself around their hands.

"Swear that you will never speak of the events that led you and Severus to meet to anyone that is not Poppy Pomfrey, Albus Dumbledore, or Severus Snape"

"I swear"

"Finally, you will not reveal the true nature of your left hand nor the charmed item to anyone who is not of wizarding kind"

"I swear," she said for the third time.

She was mesmerized by the last fiery lasso which curled around them, creating the a pulsing red lattice. Snape's wand arm returned to his side. She watched as the lights faded away. She felt no different, and pulled her arm from Dumbledore.

"Farewell," he said, "And remember, you're now under the Vow"

In the end, it was Snape who was to escort her to London. They had a silent walk through the castle and through some of the lusciously green grounds surrounding it. Eventually, they stood together on a grassy knoll, a place not dissimilar to the one they had just spent their dying moments in.

"You were splinched," he said, the odd word accentuated by the sharp pops of his lips. It was the first time in a while he had spoken.

She must have looked confused because he continued to explain.

"When we...transported from the woods to this place, I was in poor condition. Lesser wizards often make this mistake when apparating, and body parts are left behind. We call this splinching"

Erin was absentmindedly stroking her false hand. She felt a chill go through her.

"And we're about to do this again?"

He looked at her with a fierce expression and she could see the faint movement of his jaw clenching.

"Apparition requires a license to prevent these mishaps. I assure you, had the situation been different, there would have been no casualties. Take my arm," he trained his dark eyes on her in an intense gaze, "And Do. Not. Let. Go"

Erin grasped his arm firmly and took a deep breath.

"I'm ready"

When she next opened her eyes, she was in the alley way of a bustling city. Her stomach heaved and she felt a wave of nausea hit her like a truck. She quickly released his arm and took some deep breaths through her nose to quell the sensation.

"It's normal," he said.

Erin swallowed several times as the nausea slowly faded. If this was the cost of transporting, then she was glad mere humans were relegated to motorized flight. She rubbed her face with an open hand, unable to hide her fatigue any longer. And there was also that horrible pounding that was starting to rap on her temples.

"Perhaps you'd like some _paracetamol_ for that," Snape said dryly.

She looked at him, surprised. He stood with crossed arms and a slightly superior expression on his face.

"You're different," she said, "You knew I wasn't a...wizard, whatever-"

"Witch," he corrected.

"Witch," she repeated, "But that must mean your parents were from different sides"

She cocked her head at him, rethinking about everything she had learned. This was interesting.

Whatever scant signs there were that they were finally having a conversation were now vanished. He gestured down the alley.

"Mr. Snape, I sincerely hope we don't meet again," she said, taking her cue.

She walked away from the dead end and just before rejoining the main roads, turned around. All that remained was crumpled trash and bits of broken beer bottles.

* * *

><p>"You're late!" a pitch perfect English voice hollered.<p>

Erin grinned in spite of herself. His energy was infectious. The tall blonde Brit ran over to her, taking her bag from her.

"I expected you days ago, Erin. But I bet you were having fun off in the city, eh?" He winked cheekily at her.

"God n-yes. And I had a bit too good of a time," she said awkwardly. "Jonathan, I just grabbed my things and headed over here because now we're behind, and I really just want to work right now. I'm so sorry!"

He didn't seem to catch out her words tumbled out haphazardly and led her deeper into the small ramshackle office. He tossed a carefree hand in the air.

"You didn't miss a thing. Everything will be ok"

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><p><strong>Paracetamol<strong>- Tylenol in the UK


	3. Chapter 3

Snape touched the tip of his wand to his temple and drew from it, a shining silvery thread. He waved his wand over the tranquil silver surface of a large basin and let the thread drop into the liquid. Images of a spectre drawing closer to him played across the surface, replaced by Coffrey's pale face accompanied by the faint sound of anguished cries, before dissolving away. With the memory safely in the Pensieve, it would not be vulnerable to the Dark Lord's intrusion. It would be too difficult to explain away this entire encounter. He rubbed the lower right side of his chest, remembering the startling feeling of being stabbed.

The floo in his chambers roared to life and amid the green flames, Dumbledore's head stuck out.

"Severus"

"You may come through"

Dumbledore stepped into the room neatly. Behind him, the flames extinguished to just a whisp of vapor.

"She was delivered to muggle London safely," said Snape, turning from the Pensieve.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "We can't afford the plan to change on the account of a stray muggle. You did check if anyone else would know of her absence?"

Snape's lip curled in barely concealed disgust. Everyone he met who was not being handled by his spymaster was subject to being played by him. There were times where Snape wished he wasn't such an accomplished Legilimens.

"She was alone"

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles in almost a scolding manner.

"You know she's safer this way... How are you feeling, Severus?" asked the older wizard softly.

The resentment Snape had been harboring ever since he recovered bubbled out of him without warning.

"How am I feeling?" he hissed. "How would you feel after being cursed by every hex known to man, suffering a punctured lung, and being beaten within an inch of you life. And for what? _Being misinformed_ does not begin to describe the utter disaster the entire operation was!"

Dumbledore quietly stood through the enraged rant. This was the way most of these types of interactions played out.

"You do realize that these incidents are becoming too common for my liking. And with each explosive clash with the Ministry, _He_ is becoming more suspicious of my utility"

"There is a problem," Dumbledore admitted. "Moody is going to be reviewing our sources"

"And until then?"

"Cautiously maintain your alliance with Lucius Malfoy. I need to speak to Minerva now, Poppy was a little overexcited"

Snape huffed quietly. "Women," he said with little mirth. Dumbledore took no note of it and stepped back into the floo, disappearing through the flames.

* * *

><p>The Summer of 1991 was an exciting time for Erin. She and Jonathan became fast friends. The man was brilliant and driven. He got her settled in and soon they were combing through the extensive database he had been compiling over the years.<p>

When she wasn't working, she tried to reconcile her recent experience with the real world. She had gone to a therapist but found the interaction hollow. The inability to speak freely about what happened created a wall between them, and soon it was clear the sessions were useless. She ended up fabricating some story about being abandoned by an ex-boyfriend which the therapist eagerly took notes on and declared she was just depressed. _That_ was depressing. Erin eventually found solace in writing everything down in detail into a notebook, rereading it, then burning it to ashes in her trashcan. She had felt distinctly punk about the whole affair as she sat back in an armchair with the smoke detector in one hand and a drink in the other, watching as the flames devoured the notebook and the smoke exited through her window.

She had come to the conclusion that she was going to quietly at peace with the fact that she had touched another world, because the alternative was insanity. With some trepidation, she had set to experimenting on the hand. It was true, the sensitivity of the limb had limits. Touching the flame of the gas range was hot but not appropriately so, getting ahold of the dry ice in the vaccine icebox was cold but not to the point of pain. She had gone as far as to hold the dry ice for at least ten minutes, finding that her fingers moved just a tiny bit slower, but didn't seem damaged at all.

While properly buzzed, she had gone through a back and forth with herself on whether bashing her hand in with a hammer was a good idea. It took another swig of whiskey and a listing of pros and cons before she brought the tool down over the top of her hand. She preemptively let out a scream, covered by the raucous music in the background. But when she opened one eye to take a look at the damage, found that the hammer had the imprint of scales on the face, and the hand was unscathed. She remembered involuntarily letting out a maniacal cackle at that one. The last test she had done was to see if dirt would destroy the mechanism somehow that drove the movement of the scales. It unnaturally repelled everything she threw at it. Once a needle she was trying to insert within the tiny spaces was flung out like a missile, she stopped. It wouldn't do to show up at the Emergency room trying to explain how she had launched a needle into her eye out of her mechanical hand.

Jonathan had sensed an air of melancholy about her despite her denials, and set out to completely distracting her from being internally preoccupied. He was delighted when she finally came around the bend and commemorated the day by revealing to her they had managed to secure funding for their pet project.

"Pack your bags girly, we're off to Scotland!"

They took a cheap flight to a countryside town, concluding their trip in a cottage with a large shed

"Home sweet home," said Erin.

"For a few months, hope you like bugs," said Jonathan.

"As long as I'm not eating them," she quipped.

They put their things in the den, and set to exploring the house. There was only the master bedroom, which sported a modest bunk bed and sink. Jon seemed to know the drill and had already pushed the couch flush against a wall and set up a cot. It was nice when chivalry worked to her advantage, though she wouldn't have minded alternating between bed and couch every month. The kitchen was small, but had the essentials. The water ran, cold and not cold.

"Are we juiced up?" she asked when she re-entered the den.

He was bent over, following the wire from the lamp to the outlet.

"Yeah in a moment. Just don't touch anything," he said.

"I think you're superstitious about women and electronics," said Erin, putting a hand on her hips.

He had tracked down the outlet and made a face at her.

"Listen to me, woman. I was never this sensitive about my gadgets before you came along"

She snorted.

"Bullshit"

Once he had his computer, projector, and cell phone plugged in, he plopped himself on the couch. Erin sat beside him and held out a hand as he opened a packet of crisps from his bookbag.

"Never though I'd end up here," she said between bites.

"What was the five-year plan?"

She flicked the salt off her fingers and stared off into the distance.

"After residency, the idea was to find a guy. But I ended up working a lot and then it felt like no one I really liked was around. I guess I got...bored. I didn't want to just do the daily grind, but I wanted to time to mean something more. All my friends got married, had kids, and they were out of the picture. I'd always wanted to travel, so when we started speaking online, I knew it was time for a change"

"You?" she asked.

In a moment of rare seriousness, he looked off towards the distance and gave a deep sigh.

"I had a large extended family. But my parents never spoke about anyone else apart from a few of their siblings. On my eleventh birthday, a man came to the door and gave me a gift. The next day, he was completely addled. The worst case of early-onset Alzheimer's I'd ever seen. And it wasn't just him, I had several relatives who lived in the same town with the same problem. They were ignored and hidden away as village idiots. I could never explain it, even now, but they were all muddled, confused, a few became psychotic. Mum and dad didn't care, it wasn't their problem. They were preoccupied with other things. There was a lot of crime where I lived. A lot of poverty, general misery. I felt that I had to just get out of it, and being a doctor, well, it had never crossed my mind...but it was the way out. And well, five years? This is probably it. Send off the prelim report and hope for more money. "

"Hm. I had you pegged as a legacy to the Royal College," she said, trying to add some levity.

"No," he said in a far off voice, "I was the first. The only"

The atmosphere had become very solemn.

He looked at her with an expression she had never seen before, almost like intense loneliness mixed with pity.

"Let's go to the pub," he said.

They drove a rickety blue Ford to the local bar. The loud music provided covered up the serious air they had left with and they spent the night speaking of the coming week over several mugs of ale.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I had wanted to pump things out because I started getting crunched for time again, but hit a standstill with my planned ending. I am slowly digging myself out of it. Also woah- I realized that Quirrel and Snape were explicitly at odds in HPSS, which I don't think was explained.  
>And yes- reviews are helpful as motivation. ;)<p>

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><p>He was positive he was the universe's idea of a cosmic joke. The only remaining link he had to the love of his life was the spitting image of his most hateful enemy. To top it off, he was arrogant Gryffindor through and through. He should not have lost his temper with him, but the sight of the messy black Potter hair over her eyes was too much. When he didn't explode with impatience, it caused his head to implode. He downed an analgesic potion, his fifth of the day.<p>

The pounding in his temples was decreased significantly now. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

At least Double Potions with Slytherins and Gryffindors was over for the week. He cast a scathing look at the pile of parchment he had to grade. Useless, blithering idiots. If they paid half the attention to their work that they did to Quidditch or their collection of Chocolate Frog cards, they might even run the danger of being a pleasure to teach.

He had a lot of grooming to do. Lucius' child was no shining star either. His life surrounded by the Slytherin elite had not given him an ounce of Slytherin cunning. He was entirely too loud, too obvious with his intents. Hating Potter was in line with the party opinion, but it was painful to watch the coarse sabotage attempts.

He marked the papers for a few hours, judiciously striking through them with his red quill. Once that was done, he left for the nightly patrol. He and Sinistra began together, pulling apart several snogging seniors who thought they knew all the hiding spots in the castle. As per usual, they finished their rounds alone. As he turned the corner to the dungeons, he saw a trail of purple silk flutter down the hallway. His lips thinned in disapproval and he picked up the pace, walking quickly down the hallway to catch up. He stealthily came up behind the turbaned wizard and tapped him on the shoulder with his wand.

"O-Oh my!" stuttered the man in surprise, as he whirled around.

"Quirrell," Snape said expectantly. "Where are we going so late at night?"

"S-S-Severus! I didn't e-expect t-to see you"

The man was almost gibbering nonsense with all the stuttering.

"I j-just wanted s-some fresh air. F-feel so c-cooped u-up lately," said Quirrell in a shaky voice, giving a weak grin.

"It's dangerous. You should not be out alone," said Snape. "If you insist on having this nocturnal excursion, count yourself fortunate that I have decided to accompany you"

Quirrell seemed extremely disappointed.

So he spent the night hovering over Quirrell and cast an alert charm on the Defense Against Dark Arts professor's door as he dropped him off at his quarters.

The year was eventful to say the least. Potter and his friends had trampled through the castle like centaurs in a china shop. This included the defenses he and the other faculty had erected for the Sorcerer's Stone. He grudgingly accepted that the boy wasn't such a dullard, but he was sure he would not have succeeded without his friends. Secretly, he hoped that his trial would have been the bottleneck, but apparently, Granger's know-it-all attitude was not limited to academics.

He was actually quite bitter about that.

However, the outcome could not be envied. The stone was now safely out of reach.

After Dumbledore finished his end-of-the-year speech, the staff at the Head Table clapped politely. Suddenly, Snape felt a discomfort in his gut. He grimaced and sat down with the others as the applause faded. The sensation became more intense, turning into a wrenching pain. He took a deep breath and gripped the arm of his chair tightly.

"Are you ill, Severus?" asked McGonagall.

He was sure it wasn't the Dark Mark. Was it something he ate? He eyed the crumbs on his plate suspiciously as another wave of roiling pain made his insides feel like they were being stirred by a knife.

"Severus?" she asked again, now quite worried.

"It's-nothing," he said with some difficulty, and excused himself.

He made it to the dungeons without embarrassing himself any further, and grabbed a few potions from his rack, downing them in quick succession. He sat heavily in his armchair, again, holding the arms with white knuckles. Minutes elapsed and there was no improvement. He lurched to his bed and took some Dreamless Sleep from his dresser. He would just sleep it off then.

To his growing distress, the potion had no effect. He lay curled up in bed, gritting his teeth against the pain. It was several minutes before it finally abated. His body slowly relaxed, and he shakily wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Merlin's balls," he muttered darkly.

_Now_ he was suddenly drowsy. The overwhelming urge to sleep overtook his will and he collapsed back into bed.

He had never figured out what it was that caused him to feel so ill. He attributed it to some kind of accidental poisoning, either from the house elves or from some turned component of his potions. In the next semester, it had happened once more, this time while debriefing Dumbledore of some new developments.

The familiar feeling of a witch stirring his entrails with a sharp object had returned, and he nearly bit his tongue in the middle of a sentence.

"Severus, what's wrong," asked Dumbledore.

"I am-"

He grunted in discomfort as he shifted just a bit in his seat.

"-more tired than I thought" he finished.

It laughably poor lie.

Dumbledore was now examining him with renewed interest. He appeared genuinely worried.

"Are you hurt? Should we have Madam Pomfrey see to you?"

"No," he ground out despite the growing pain.

"I- just need -a moment"

Dumbledore would not let him go so easily after this episode, so there was no point in trying to lick his wounds in private. They sat across from each other in stasis for ten minutes before it passed.

"How long has this been going on?" Dumbledore asked once Snape's face wasn't contorted in pain.

"The past year"

"I assume you've tried the usual remedies and suspects"

"Of course"

"Any other symptoms? Dreams? Visions?" he pressed.

Snape shook his head.

"Hmm," Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought.

"Is this meeting over?" Snape asked testily.

"Do you remember the woman you released, Miss Coffrey?"

"Yes," he said, impatient. Honestly, how could he not.

"I'm going to have Benson check in on her. You should get some rest, Severus. And let me know if this happens again"

With the dismissal, Snape headed straight for the library.


	5. Chapter 5

**Life Debts**

_A compilation of research by Perdix Tinnegean_

A Life Debt, as colloquially called, is a branch of ancient magic. As part of the "Old Magick", it has no restriction on whom it can involve- muggles, squibs, wizarding folk, and creatures alike are subject to its bonds. Other similar types of magic include blood magic and certain types of dark magic. To read further refer to page 3321.

The Life Debt in common wizarding lore is said to be an exchange of services, in which the individual whose life was saved is compelled to recoup this debt by preventing the death of their savior at the next instance. The first recorded life debt was made over 200 years ago, however the contemporary understanding of this bond is superficial. Current knowledge is based off of verbal histories and case studies. Within these limited accounts, it has been noted that preservation of life does not have to be the sole mandate of the pact. One can demand payment in other forms of protection (importantly, not in favors), which can extend to requests to forgo memory charms or torture.

What is concretely known is that the Life Debt occurs at the moment one entity consciously saves the life of another. At least one of the participants must be of wizarding folk. The debt can be called to attention at any time with a specific request. This request cannot be altered later in time. There are a few theories that in choosing to specify the type of protection desired, the Debtor is released from preventing all types of bodily harm to the Debtee. This has not been verified.

Debtors are then compelled to fulfill their promises. Compulsion occurs in a syndrome of symptoms. The most common one is pain or intense discomfort when they are in danger of failing to keep their word. Pain is amplified as their Debtee is in increasing danger, and stops once the danger has been resolved. Few wizards have described witnessing visions or dream-like images after implementation of a pact. It is thought that the visions of the centaur Seer Ixion were in actuality visions from the witch Megara, who lived in the troubled region of Greece he often made predictions about. Other symptoms include: nausea and vomiting, headache, vertigo, diarrhea, fever, dizziness, drowsiness, low energy, rash, and stuffy nose.

The symptoms of compulsion are not life-threatening and are rarely debilitating, however they are unresponsive to known remedies. There is some speculation that this is the case because the pact is made between two souls or magical essences. To read more on this, refer to page 40.

It is important to note that compulsion does not occur with definite direction. The Debtor, if not educated of their situation, may not realize what they are experiencing and perish when they have failed their duty.

The existence of the Life Debt has long been a point of contention. Many efforts have been made to find the magical roots of the binding in order to destroy the link it creates. Due to its ancient nature, it is able to flout all modern rules of civilization. If a government official were to be indebted to a criminal, there would be no way to prevent the repayment of the debt without death of said official. In part, this is why the Aurory is vigorously audited and those involved in pacts are stripped of titles and privileges.

Ways of demolishing the effects of the Life Debt have long been researched, with little usable results. Upon post-mortem examination, all participants in these small studies died within hours of their partner's death due to nonspecific causes. Subjects were healthy males between the ages of 19 and 41. The controversy of this study lead to complete abolition of all wizarding research on Life Debts.

The only known way of escaping the stipulations of the pact is through natural death of the Debtee.

Creation of a Horcrux as a method skirting the effects of the pact has much evidence backing its hypothetical success, but it is an entirely unacceptable and illegal method. To read more on Horcruxes, refer to Appendix D.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Gosh, no love eh?

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><p>The locals were not friendly.<p>

They had started their first official day in the field by introducing themselves to everyone. She had some butterflies in her stomach as she went door-to-door, but didn't expect to be coldly told off by the homeowners.

"Good morning! My name is Dr. Erin Coffrey. My partner Dr. Davies and I are running a clinic in town. If you-"

"What?" the narrow-faced woman said, interrupting her.

"We're offering free medical services"

"No no no, get off my porch!" the woman abruptly shut the door in Erin's face.

She met similar resistance as she worked down the line. She met up with Jonathan again a little later.

"What the hell was that?" she asked.

He didn't seem as surprised as she was and gave a shrug.

"Never said the job would be easy, Erin. Be professional and move on"

Door after slammed door made for a bleak afternoon. Erin's smile was beginning to deteriorate into a pasted caricature of her real grin. It wasn't the end of the world, but everything else had been going so well, this felt like a catastrophic failure. She looked over to where Jonathan was. He had managed to shove a pamphlet into one house, and jogged further down the street, into the dodgy end of town.

Litter on the streets was now more visible. The houses had fallen behind in upkeep and were shucking their colors with curled peels of paint resembling birch bark. As she followed his trail, she saw shadows flit from behind the dirty windows. Shades were pulled back and dropped down abruptly.

There was life here. But she wasn't sure if they were friend or foe.

She looked over the house she was walking up to and cautiously rapped on the wooden door twice. No answer. She tried again and waited, wagging her leg a bit in impatience. Fine then. Onto the next house it was. She didn't have any luck until maybe the 6th house down the line. It was just as dreary as the rest of them, with the added embellishment of some broken milk bottles on the stoop.

She kicked the shards aside with her boot and resumed the knocking stance. She was startled when the door was yanked open before her knuckles could make contact. She jerked her arm back and had to remember why she was doing this in the first place.

"Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Coffrey. My partner and I are starting a free clinic here. We just wanted to introduce ourselves"

He was dressed in a plaid shirt that was haphazardly buttoned and stood there biting his thumbnail.

"We'd love to have you over at our place- it's just outside town on Fern Ro-"

"You shouldn't be here," he said.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

He was now biting the muscle adjacent to the thumb, and looked at her with buggy eyes as he gnawed on his hand.

"Sometimes they got the ghosts and the hoods and the De-"

He stopped speaking suddenly and wrinkled his nose, then twisted his neck sideways in what looked like a painful contortion.

"Sir," she said, taking a step forward.

"Gaaaahhhh-!" he groaned, and righted himself suddenly, "Who're you? Whatchyou doin' here?" he asked her, bobbing his head and he looked at her from head to toe and back again.

Her brow creased and she slowly took small steps backwards.

"Just wanted to say hi. Good day," she said, and didn't turn around until he slammed the door in her face.

"God," she muttered to herself as she walked on.

She looked ahead to see that Jonathan had finished and was now trotting back over to her. They got to several more houses and once in a while, they had similar experiences to the "ghost" man. Jon took it in stride, and made sure to leave their information with everyone who opened their doors.

Erin meanwhile was quickly building theories on what was doing on with these people, what the possible differential diagnoses were. She saw hand tremors, torticollis, nystagmus, and fasciculations of some facial muscles. It had to be something environmental- the grouping of affected people was much too tight and massive for it to be a coincidence.

Was it the water? The food?

Questions whirled around in her head and she walked back to their car in a daze.

"That was bizarre," she finally said.

"It's bad," he agreed.

They got into the car and as Jonathan drove back to their place, Erin mentally reviewed the day's events.

"Jon, did you get a lot of people mentioning ghosts?"

He glanced at her briefly before looking back at the road.

"A bit. Why?"

She shrugged and scratched her eyebrow.

"Just wondering. I...just feel like I'm missing something"

"We just need to get everyone to come to us so we can get a better look at them. Which means we're going to have to be very sweet and very irritating"

"Your forte," she quipped.

The trademark Davies smile she had been missing made a brief reappearance.

"Incorrigible," he said.

When they got out, Jon let out an aggravated sigh. He bent down to scoop up some gravel and throw it at the murder of crows that had settled in their tree. They squawked loudly, offended, and all but one flew off.

"What are you doing?" she asked, bewildered.

"Ahh, I just don't like their beady eyes. My mum said they were bad omens," he said.

He stood facing the last crow, with his hands on his hips and narrowed eyes. She came around to his side of the car and looked at the bird. It cocked its head and cawwed at them.

"I hope it doesn't do that all night. It's damn loud," she said.

Jonathan grumbled something incomprehensible and gave the bird one more look before being corralled into the house by Erin.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Those who know, correct me if little things are off. Like the phone number.

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><p>As time marched on, Erin was introduced to more forces of nature than she had ever seen before. She was witness to the a flash flood, some truly frightening thunder storms, and their respective birthdays.<p>

She had found that she was hilariously bad at beer pong. She teetered on her feet as she tried to clear the pyramid of even just three cups. The men watching their game were amused by her colorful cusses and applauded her for a few of them. Jonathan had clearly had his share of heavy drinking days as his hand-eye coordination skills somehow improved the more inebriated he became. The most memorable win ended in him drumming his chest with his fists like a gorilla and roaring at everyone in the pub that he ruled this kingdom. He had a similarly outrageous hangover the next day and Erin snidely laughed at him as she hovered over him.

"Go away," he said, with his head buried in a pillow.

She brought over a trashcan and and he promptly took it to retch in.

"Who's the king?" she asked.

"I am," he replied and threw up again.

The townspeople had ever so slowly warmed up to their presence. She attributed it to Jonathan saving a toddler from almost drowning in a nearby river. They bought a large party tent to set up permanently outside, under which they had plastic tables and some folding partitions. It was there and the den where they saw their patients.

Some of the more well-to-do citizens were surreptitiously bringing in the "addled folk". It would happen at odd hours where Jon could finally relax and take a long shower and Erin was having her last cup of coffee for the night. She was piecing together a strange dichotomy for the town. The higher-functioning people lived normal lives and had banished their strange family members to the dodgy end. How and why, she didn't know. But she reserved her judgement as all kinds of people, young and old, came by with their wayward relatives in tow.

"Well?" the woman asked, "Can you fix her?"

She was a young, in her mid twenties. She kept anxiously pushing back an errant lock of dyed blond hair behind her ear. While the two looked to be close in age, they were vastly different otherwise. The one who had brought the other in was smartly dressed with high-end jacket and boots. The woman she had brought with her was in a pinstriped pajamas and a periwinkle-colored bathrobe.

"What's you name?" Erin asked.

"Shelley," she said quickly.

"Just a moment," said, Erin and sat the Shelley down with some tea as she examined her ward.

She had long brown hair that was plaited into a messy braid. The stray hairs framed a pale face with scattered freckles. Her blue eyes were opened wide, the pupils small, and her gaze seemed distant. She was focused on something miles away from here.

"I'm Dr. Coffrey, what's you name?" she asked.

"Susan," her companion supplied.

Erin stopped herself from telling the woman off. She had wanted to see if Susan would give any spark of recognition.

"Susan," she plied again, smiling, "Is that you?"

There was no response.

"Susan, do you know where you are?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

Susan's lips fell open just a touch, but she was clearly not in their plane of existence. Her expression was completely blank.

Erin turned to Shelley.

"How long as she been like this?"

"Maybe last month? I came back for vacation and found her like this. Her mum won't tell me anything and she's been acting all depressed"

"I'm her cousin," she added after Erin's questioning look.

"What was she like before?"

"Normal. Never had a health problem"

"Is she always like this?"

"Yeah. I feed her and she eats. We have to use a diaper for toileting though."

"Any medications? Allergies? Did anything happen while you were away?"

Shelley shook her head. Erin took a deep breath as quietly as she could and sat down so she was eye-level with the woman. She hated doing this type of interrogation.

"And to your knowledge, was there anyone who would want to hurt her? Verbally or physically?" Shelley's eyes were starting to water and she struggled to keep her composure.

"What are you saying? That someone would do this to her? There was no one! No one!" she said, her voice rising.

Erin put a hand on hers, hoping to calm her down.

"I'm sorry, I just need to ask. This state could be induced by some kind of shock"

"Oh God," said Shelley. "Oh God, Oh God"

Erin took her shoulder in a firm grip.

"Look. We don't know anything yet. I'm going to do my best to help you, do you understand?"

Shelley nodded and took heaving breaths and she tried to calm herself down. Erin redirected her attention to Susan.

"Ok dear, I'm just going to touch your face and give you a physical exam. Don't be alarmed"

There was no need for the preamble as Susan continued to stare off into space. Erin put her hands on Susan's head, feeling her scalp with her fingertips and didn't find any depressions or bumps. She peered into Susan's face. The same blank expression. Small pupils. Her eyes were aligned and not showing any type of strange rotatory movement she had seen in some of the other people. She fished out a penlight from her shirt pocket and flashed it in her eyes. They were reactive, normal. She could feel Shelley's concerned gaze as she continued with the exam and moved onto testing some of the more specific nerves.

Her case was distinct from the others she had seen. She couldn't discern any neurological damage that had been more obvious with the other people. The woman had seemingly just shut down.

"Ok Shelley," she said. "If you have any medical records for her, I'd really like to see them. And I'll visit you once I've gone through them all. All I can tell you know is that from our limited exam, there isn't anything jumping out at me except that she's in a nonresponsive state. I can't tell if there's any brain damage, but her essential functions like breathing and eating obviously aren't affected"

Shelley gave Erin a weak watery smile, and grabbed her cousin's hand to lead her away. Erin felt like an idiot. Years of schooling, calling herself a physician, daring coming to another country, and she was useless. She put hands on someone to tell their loved ones what they already knew. She watched them get into their car and drive away, then aggressively flopped onto the couch. She stared ahead, like Susan, thinking of what it all meant. Wisps of ideas came to her, but nothing really _fit_. She heard soft steps as Jonathan came out of the bathroom, and felt the cushions sink as he sat beside her. The smell of alpine aftershave hung in the air.

"Hey," he said. "Are you all right?"

He could see the line of her jaw stiffen as she clenched her muscles.

"We're getting a whiteboard," she said tersely, then got up to go to bed.

Practically overnight, they rewrote their grant proposal. While still providing basic medical services, they began to create a database of the afflicted people-hoping to synthesize what the syndrome was and create a treatment plan.

Erin suspected this was where Jonathan had wanted to drive their research all along. Sometimes, when she hit a wall and spent a few days being frustrated, he would quietly leave a tab open on her internet browser with a surprisingly helpful resource. If she wasn't mistaken, he almost seemed a little reticent to show them to her. The man she had come to grow fond of was usually more enthusiastic about showing off his expertise.

As the nocturnal visits became more regular, Erin found herself struggling to find a balance between being the more sympathetic type and the analytical one. It was hard to objectively look at everything when she had to turn on her softer side and provide reassuring words. She caught herself irrationally hoping for simple reasons for everything, and believing at one moment, that really- everything would be ok.

It reminded her of a coming-of-age moment as a younger student turning physician. She had always taken pleasure in the wild and traumatic cases. Someone had their fingers sliced off? Excellent. The worst form of lupus? Very cool. Metastatic cancer to the bone causing excruciating pain? So intriguing! Like a dog chasing a loud car down the street, she would come to attention when word of an interesting case came by, then shoot off to it. It wasn't a rare phenomenon. As they were all emerging from the boring world of textbooks into the more exciting hospital wards, into the more exciting and now slightly frightening world of running a ward, they were bound to be enraptured by the pathology in words turned into real life.

Illness was the interesting part, not the person. The people were unimpressive, ugly, smelly, old, uninformed, uninterested. She remembered speaking to a man who had been so neglected at home, he was brought into the hospital. It wasn't his tragic story that was the memorable thing about him, It was his damn nails. All half an inch long, with dirt and who knows what crusted underneath. What she hadn't realized then was that she had unconsiously created a barrier to feeling more empathetic by getting more involved with the disease process.

When her own father passed, she had a difficult time going to see him. The boundary between work and her personal life didn't exist in that circumstance. She had struggled with the same thing she was struggling with now. Weeping didn't help with thinking. And thinking didn't help with telling your dad how much you loved him. She opted for the clear-headed route, and still wasn't sure if that was the right decision.

After that, things had changed and she had resolved to be less of a "gunner bitch" in the immortal words of a ticked off classmate.

She looked up from her laptop monitor and let herself smile at the box of cookies (or "biscuits", as Jon called them) with the enormous pink bow ontop. She had given him a bottle opener keychain for Christmas. Her stomach rumbled and she pursed her lips, trying to convince herself not to want the sweets.

"I'll just finish this paragraph," she murmured to herself, and returned to the screen.

There was a loud rattling at the door, and Jonathan came in with an armful of groceries.

"Are you _still_ working on the case write-up?" he asked.

"...yessss," she said reluctantly.

She quickly saved the document as she saw the screen flicker.

He grimaced at her.

"Take a break, the deadline for submission is months away"

"I'm almos-"

"Take...a...break, Coffrey. I don't want to hear another word"

He walked past her to put items away in the kitchen. She knew she was being inches away from having him blow up at her. She probably deserved it, they hadn't had a non-work related conversation in over a week. She was also pushing him harder than she meant to. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, then she closed the laptop.

"I'm going to town," she announced.

"Good," he said from kitchen.

She took the keys to the car from the nail in the wall and headed out.

She had just gotten used to how dark it was in a rural area. She could hardly see the handle and had to feel for the contours before yanking it open to be able to get into the car. As the engine came to life with a reassuring loud hum, the sounds of the forest were drowned out. He was right. She had to get out of her head. She drove towards town, and parked at the pub to take a walk.

She headed down the main street slowly. No one else was out on the streets, and she held onto her phone in her pocket. It was chilly, despite being wrapped up in layers and having a nice wool scarf over her nose and mouth. Once she had reached the edge of the nicer part of town, she lingered for a moment before turning back. She took her phone out and typed a quick text message to Jon. She had to press the screen very deliberately as it was slow to respond.

'Going to check on Howard. Should be quick'

It gave a small "woop" as it sent the message. She walked quickly to the sixth house on the left side of the road. Howard had been making some progress. Or she was just as nutty as he- sometimes it was hard to tell. But she could swear he had micro-moments of lucidity when they spoke. He had started telling her a story about a plague when they last spoke. Maybe that was the environmental link they were looking for. She climbed up the steps and was about the knock when she noticed there were other people in the house.

In the two years she had spent here, she had learned a lot of things about the townsfolk, and one of them was that Howard was incapable with living with anyone else. She crept up to the door and made herself as flat as possible so they wouldn't be able to see her if they looked out the window.

"Hurry up, I want to get back to Marge," she heard one man say.

The other shushed him.

"I'm trying to not mess him up more than he already is. Stop distracting me"

Erin's brow creased, what the hell were they doing? She fumbled for her phone.

"I don't see why you're putting so much effort into it. He's been Obliviated so many times, there's no point"

She struggled to bring up the phone calling screen as it froze on her. Of all the times for it to act up-!

"Because I have standards- and because the report said he was saying such crazy things it was bringing muggle mediwizards in"

She could suddenly hear her heart beating in her ears and pounding uncontrollably in her chest. She jabbed at the screen with her finger.

_'9'_

"Obliviate!"

_'9'_

"Daniels, let's go"

"Shit, now you want to apparate all quick huh"

_Apparate_. She knew this word. Her blood ran cold and she almost dropped the mobile. She had to get to him. Without thinking, she slammed her body against the rickety door. Old and eaten-through as it was, it gave way, cracking at the hinges. She bolted in, trampling over disposable styrofoam plates and broken glass. Howard sat in a chair, staring straight ahead. She turned the flashlight function on her phone and shined it at him. He looked eerie in the harsh light.

"Howard?" she asked, she didn't realize how scared her voice could sound.

He blinked, and look at her with an expression of complete confusion.

"Who're you?"

"It's me- Erin. Dr. Coffrey? Remember? We played Backgammon the other day?"

"Who ARE YOU?" he thundered, and got up.

She took a step back, stumbling.

"Howard?"

"Why are you in my house? Who are you?!"

She turned and ran out of there, narrowly avoiding breaking her face on the mad dash down the steps. Bolting for the pub, she jumped into the car and gunned it back to the house. Jon was in the den, working on something. He got up immediately as she entered, for she must have looked terrified.

"Erin-" he said, holding her quaking arms.

"He- he didn't remember anymore!"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks for sticking around, Liz. The support is appreciated! My initial note seems appropriate without much editing: I did *not* mean for the OC bits to be so drawn out. Damn me for trying to make an impossible situation "organic". But it's nice to know it's holding your interest. ;D.  
>Also that outage was TERRIBLE. 2 days of being locked out!<p>

* * *

><p>Jonathan felt incredibly guilty that night. He had forced Erin out of the house, thinking it would do her some good. Then she returned in pieces.<p>

"He doesn't remember- he can't remember!" she kept repeating.

Erin was slightly disheveled and her clothes looked scuffed up all on one side. He guided her to the couch and sat her down.

"Erin, honey, what happened? Talk to me"

Her eyes were wild.

"I-I need some water," she finally said.

He got up wordlessly and headed to the kitchen. When he came back, she was noticably calmer. Her hand shook a bit as she accepted the water. He also handed her a small chocolate bar, and she took that as well.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

She rolled her shoulder experimentally and winced.

"Just sore, I ran into a door"

"Did someone attack you?" his tone became more urgent.

"No- I mean, kind of?"

He waited for her to gather her thoughts.

"I went to see Howard," she said, her voice more steady.

"When I got there, I thought I saw some men inside. I thought they were about to hurt him, so I broke the door down. They had gotten away by then, and he was just there. I asked if he was ok, and then he just exploded saying he didn't know me. He didn't recognize me at all"

He rubbed her arm in a reassuring gesture.

"We need to call this in," he said.

He saw her hesitate and was confused.

"Did you hit your head?" he asked, both in the rhetorical and serious sense.

"No- call the police then. I was just hoping to sleep my nerves off"

He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed 999. He kept an eye on her as he spoke to the operator and explained the situation.

Erin was still tightly wound up from the encounter and was sitting with a stiffly ontop of the cushions. She held the cup with both hands and looked into it, trying to think of how to play this. She had made a mistake in coming in such a state. If she had been smarter, she would have stayed in the car for just another minute to figure out what to say. But she had been so startled by the wizards, her brain felt scrambled. She supposed part of it was that she had practically suppressed the memory of running into that wizard from years ago.

But now she had that Vow to think about. What was it? She was fairly sure if she let anyone else know about wizards and magic, she would be violating their terms of agreement and fall over dead, as he had put it. She rubbed the cuff anxiously.

"Ok," said Jonathan, still on the line, "they transferred me to the local authorities. They're heading over to Howard's right now and they want a statement from you"

Her stomach flipped over and twisted into a million knots.

"Of course," she said as confidently as she could.

He finished the conversation, then grabbed his stethoscope from his bag and went back to Erin to take a better look at her.

"I'm ok," she protested as he pulled the skin above her eyelid to look into her pupils.

"Hush!"

Once he was satisfied, he had her take off her jacket and listened to her breathing. He then had her lift her shirt up to show him her ribs. Her shoulder, elbow, and ribs were predictably badly bruised. He clicked his tongue in disapproval as he palpated gently.

"How's that feel?" he asked.

"Hurts," she hissed, "But I don't think it's that bad"

"Right," he said skeptically, and had her dress again so they could head out.

He escorted her to the car and drove to the station. It was a small building and the one person on staff asked if they'd like any tea before asking Erin for her account of what had happened. She tried to give general descriptions so that they couldn't actually attempt to find someone to pin the blame on. As she was finishing up, the door opened and another officer came through.

"You the Doc?" he asked.

"Yes"

"Howard- Mr. Ames is just as ... what's the politically correct term for this- off his rocker, as he's always been. I couldn't get a sensible word out of him, but he was physically unharmed. There is however, some damage to the house"

"I have that in her statement, Hamish. She said she broke the door down to get to him"

He tilted his chin up a bit, unsure of if he believed the slip of a woman could have done it.

"Ah"

"I'm so sorry," said Erin, "I'll pay for the damages. But I really thought there was someone about to attack him"

"I'll take another look in the morning, and the report will be written up. But I wouldn't lose sleep over it. He was probably talking to himself."

"Apologies-," said Jonathan, cutting in. "But could you also post some warnings that there may be some suspicious figures in town? I'm just concerned for my partner's safety"

He thought it over for a bit, then nodded. "Ok. All right."

Erin felt a rush of relief course through her. Disaster and death averted. She let herself be herded into the car again and into bed. Before falling into exhausted sleep, she heard Jonathan pull out the rifle from the closet.

The next morning, she woke up with horrible aches. She groaned as she tried to stretch her arm and get out of bed. She was now acutely aware of how mediocre the water temperature was, and decided to skip the shower, going into the kitchen instead. She saw breakfast was already fixed for her out in the common space.

"Morning, you're in for an x-ray on Thursday," said Jon, pulling the chair out for her.

"Thank you," she said, feeling pampered and patronized at the same time.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Sore. A bit rattled, but I'll get over it," she said as she picked up the fork and dug into the eggs.

"...Ok, I'm here"

That was enough words between them to get the whole point across. It was already running the risk of becoming a saccharine exchange.

She suddenly noticed the time as he was checking his emails.

"We're late!" she hurriedly ate a sausage and got up.

"Ah-ah," he said, wagging his finger, "I put out the word we're closed for today. Sit."

"Jesus, you're not my mother," she said, stung. She slinked back into her seat.

"No, I'm your friend. And sometimes, I have to put my foot down with you"

She couldn't help but scowl at him. His severe expression broke just for a split second to give her a wink.

"Incorrigible," she said.

* * *

><p>The incident had passed without much consequence. Although she was sure Jonathan had lost some sleep over it. She had stopped from making house visits for a while, instead focusing on doing some reading and drafting a more comprehensive paper on what they were seeing there. The first two had been published in small journals and forums before the attack, and were being met with moderate success. She and Jonathan were responding to questions and found there was an interest in their work.<p>

His side of the project was coming along as well. He had started applying an algorithm that would sort cases out by distinct traits. They were going to look at the data from different angles to see if anything would crop up. So far, they had identified 2 general groupings: comatose amnesiacs and psychotic amnesiacs. She did regret that she couldn't get more information about the "plague" from Howard before they had come to wipe his memories. She often sat on the porch with her laptop, wondering if that was the fate that could have befell her if she hadn't forced Severus Snape into protecting her.

_Snape_. The word often came unbidden into her mind. She morbidly wondered what he was doing, if he thought of her, if he was dead, if he knew what was going on here. She admitted to herself only recently that she was afraid to see him again. Because that really meant she was going to get sucked into his murky business- and she had just started to believe it was all in the past.

In any other situation, she would have been overjoyed to find that magic was _real_. But it was horrible. It made killing and maiming easier. She could only think of the illegal feats one would be able to achieve with the help of magic. Illegal and unethical. She shuddered as she thought of Howard's mind being blasted back to the edge of insanity.

She got the distinct feeling that she and Snape were two unstoppable forces, destined to crash at any moment.

But she knew she couldn't just leave these people. She and Jon had started something big. She secretly thought that this project might be her defining moment. She felt that the body fundamentally wasn't run just by magic. The history of molecular biology had to count for something, and it seemed to exhausting for all those cellular processes to take place by some deliberate force. If this were true, then despite what was done to people like Howard, there had to be a way to pinpoint that damage and intervene. It raised the question of whether they were on the cusp of a massive conspiracy- a town of Obliviated people. And if she was completely wrong, she stood to reveal to the world that there was something else beyond DNA and proteins. It was a heady thought.

Their neighborhood crow was in their tree, as always. Jon made a regular habit to throw rocks at it as he came in to the house. It was oddly persistent in its perch and would flap and caw in protest, but never abandon its post.

She supposed she was a lot like the bird.

* * *

><p>Snape fought the sudden urge to violently retch into MacMillan's bubbling cauldron. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply, trying to settle his stomach. The Hufflepuff mistook the nostrils as a sign of intense disapproval with his work and tossed the rest of the ingredients in, stirring furiously. "DISMISSED!" Snape snarled, and vanished the contents of the cauldrons.<p>

Ernie MacMillian was never happier to get out of detention early, even if it was with Snape yelling at him. He wordlessly picked up his things and ran out of the classroom. Once the door swung shut, Snape hunched over, grabbing the edge of his worktable and moaning.

It was the worst it had ever been. He was unprepared for the assault and lay there for what felt like hours. Behind closed eyes, he could make out the vision of a darkened window, some type of flashing device, number nines. He got up shakily, and ambled haltingly over to the floo. The pain was now subsiding. His mind was clearer as he threw in the powder and emerged in Dumbledore's office.

The older wizard was mildly surprised by his unannounced entrance. But once seeing Snape's condition, he rushed over. Snape exercised his stiff jaw and squared his shoulders.

"This cannot be allowed to continue," he said.

"It happened again" Dumbledore said.

He went to his desk to collect a charmed unicorn figure.

"Perhaps," he said thoughtfully, "we should discuss the possibility of bringing Ms. Coffrey into our effort against the Dark Lord"

Snape wasn't sure if he heard correctly.

"Come again"

"It's becoming clear that we can't leave her up to her own devices. From Benson and Kingsley's reports, she's becoming involved with obliviated and Kissed people, trying to reverse the effects. We believed it would go unnoticed with Voldemort putting pressure on the Ministry. But she seems to be gaining a following. And this puts her in a direct line of fire from Aurors."

"And how is that supposed to help us?" he asked "You describe a liability, not an asset."

"She's making connections with muggles in critical areas that may be able to provide us with intelligence. I suspect the attention she's garnering from her research is from witches and wizards who want to rise against Voldemort. His activity is not only in Europe, and there are unsavory actions occuring overseas as well."

"You want to use her to speak to them," he said, putting the pieces together.

Dumbledore nodded as he picked up the unicorn.

"I believe you would be the logical choice as an emissary. With some time, you could convince her to return with you. And I'm sure the students would believe you've gone on sabbatical to collect some Meerian Flatroot," he added with some levity.

Snape grumbled under his breath. Dumbledore handed him the unicorn and tapped its horn with his wand.

"Ms. Benson," he said.

The unicorn's mouth opened as if to neigh.

"Sir," came a feminine human voice.

"Our plans have changed. Severus will need to rendezvous with you in the morning. In the meantime, you must keep a close eye on Ms. Coffrey until then. Do not let any harm come to her"

"Yes Sir. Is that all?"

"Indeed Ms. Benson, good night"

The horse closed its mouth. Dumbledore looked at Snape for a second, assessing the damage done, and patted him on the back as he turned to go back into the floo.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

* * *

><p>Jonathan had taken her convalescence seriously. She woke early the next morning, ready for a normal day, and found him making breakfast for the two of them again.<p>

"I presume this is Day Two of vacation?" she asked.

He chuckled.

"If you're good, we'll start up tomorrow afternoon after your appointment"

"Well thanks, _Sir_," she said sarcastically, but not meanly. "And thanks for breakfast, really," she said in a softer tone.

"You've got time to get dressed down. See you in a bit"

He smiled at her warmly and she returned the gesture.

She filled a glass with water from the faucet and headed back into her room.

Her smile was instantly wiped off her face when she saw Snape with his arms crossed, standing next to her bunk bed.

She froze, losing grip of the glass. Snape hardly twitched a hand and the spill and broken glass disappeared.

"What are you doing here?" she asked stiffly. "I thought we would not meet again"

He had watched her for a few moments before settling into her room. He was mildly jealous of her. She had brushed shoulders with the wizarding world, _his_ violent wizarding world, and had managed to escape...for a short time.

She was determined not to be intimidated by him, and despite his very practiced looming presence, she stood defiantly. This was her domain. She mirrored his stance and also crossed her arms. Her lips were clamped tightly together in a thin line.

"Well?"

"Your activity has not gone unnoticed," said Snape finally.

She waited for him to elaborate and motioned impatiently with her eyes for him to go on.

"Your humanitarian efforts abut strong wizarding communities, and are directly aiding rural muggle ones. Communities that are especially vulnerable to an extremist group known as Death Eaters. I am part of an organization that is trying to ensure their leader does not come to power. We believe you can help us"

When he finished speaking, there was an awkward silence in the air. As if it wasn't bad enough she was talking to a wizard, he was now telling her that she was in the middle of some kind of "international incident". Could it get more complicated? Was he even telling the truth? She suppressed the growing feeling of fluttery panic in her stomach, and cleared her throat, which had suddenly gotten clogged up.

"How would I know if I even playing for the right side? Maybe _you're_ the extremist," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I won't be involved in something I don't understand"

She thought she saw the faintest glimmer of reluctant satisfaction.

"I'm at least relieved you're not foolish enough to play a hero," he said.

She walked up to him so that they stood with just a foot of space between them. He was a poor choice for a diplomat, entirely too cold and not nearly empathetic enough.

"We're going to have a long conversation later," she said softly but firmly. "Jon expects me to come out of this room."

"You're feeling quite comfortable," he sneered.

"You're in my room, Severus. I'd better be comfortable," she said sharply.

"It's Professor Snape," he said, returning the bite.

"Then it's Dr. Coffrey to you," she snapped and walked out of her room.

Erin stomped over to the kitchen and ran the tap into another cup. After gulping a few mouthfuls of the cold water, she gave an aggravated sigh and ran a hand through her hair. She had a bad feeling about this. But it didn't seem likely she would be able to escape him. She had a life here she would not abandon, and he was a bloody wizard. He had appeared in her room in a cottage in essentially the middle of nowhere. She had little doubts he would be able to track her down wherever she went. Suddenly the deal she had struck with him all that time ago did not seem that great. She would have rather lost her memory of how they came to meet and never have to see him again.

She had forgotten that Jon had made breakfast for her and was waiting at the table. It was the sight of the greasy pan that brought her back to her world. She took a few deep breaths to right herself, and hoped she didn't look too flustered before joining him.

"You ok?" he asked. _Damn_.

"Ahhh- yeah, yes," she said, hoping her voice wasn't too shaky.

Her enthusiasm for the day was gone, extinguished by the dark man who had just visited. Jon seemed worried about her sudden change of temperment, but didn't say anything. His silence was much appreciated. The rest of the day was a blur. Once night fell, she lay on the top bunk, staring up at the cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling.

It was impossible to sleep. She almost didn't want to because she kept running their conversation over in her head, trying to glean more information from it. Stuck between a rock and a hard place for a few hours, she finally decided enough was enough. She clambered down the ladder and rummaged through her dresser, taking a few allergy pills with some water before settling into bed again.

* * *

><p><em>Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap... Tap, tap, tap.<em>

Erin rolled over and covered her ears with the pillow. What was that incessant noise?

_Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. - SKREEE! _

"Holy shit," she grumbled and rolled to the window, opening one eye against the bright sunlight.

The heart-shaped white face of a barn owl greeted her through the window. It cocked its head and opened its beak to screech at her again.

SKREEEEEEEEEE! SKREEEEE!

"Oh my Godddd," she groaned.

It had to be a wizarding thing.

She got out of bed and approached the window.

SKREE!

"Jesus Christ"

She fumbled with the latch on the window and thanked her lucky stars that it worked as she swung it open. The owl hopped in and ruffled its feathers indignantly. The damn thing was intelligent, it was _pissed_at her. She noticed a scroll tied to its leg and took it off the owl. She thought it would leave, but it stayed perched on her sill, looking at her expectantly with its inky black eyes.

She pursed her lips as she opened the scroll and read the contents.

Dr. Coffrey,  
>Select a discrete meeting place of your choice. The owl will deliver your message.<br>-Professor S.

They were on formal terms then. She rubbed the yellow crust off her eyelashes and yawned. A discrete place? She was having trouble thinking of one. She took a pen from her dresser and twirled it between her fingers as she thought of what to write. Her mind was still a bit sluggish from last night. The owl opened its beak widely.

"No you don't!" she said quickly, pointing her finger sternly at the bird.

The owl closed its beak slowly, giving her a creepily knowing look.

She wrote her response in ballpoint and rolled up the scroll.

"Why not black cats?" she asked the bird as she attached her message.

It had the temerity to screech at her one last time before flying away.

* * *

><p>At 3 PM on the dot, Erin was sitting in the blue Ford past the dead end on the outskirts of town. She had the emergency axe in the doorside slot, hidden and within easy reach. She blinked as Snape apparated in front of the car. Erin took a deep breath and beckoned him inside. He examined the automobile with an ill-disguised expression of dislike and opened the passenger-side door, letting himself in.<p>

"Hello," she said, turning in her seat to face him.

She noted with some malicious of glee that he was not comfortable in their meeting place. He was unable to create the image of a threatening face amongst billowing black robes. To his credit though, he did not come in the usual swath of clothing, but just had the frock coat instead. He stared ahead for a moment, then also turned to meet her gaze.

"You remember our first meeting," he said.

He knew she did.

"I was being pursued by Aurors. Wizards police, if you will, employed by our Minstry of Magic. They believed I was a Death Eater, a member of a subversive group of wizards who wish to overthrow the Ministry." He paused for effect.

"That is not the case. You are bound to my secret, that I have defected to Headmaster Dumbledore who is making moves to stop the Dark Lord and his followers. The Ministry is corrupt and ill-equipped to battle the Dark Lord, and so it falls to the most powerful wizard of our time with the exception of the Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore, to ensure he does not come to power. "

He monitored her face for confusion, weakness.

"I've already expressed my opinion regarding government matters," she said, coolly.

He put a hand on the dashboard, leaning in just a bit. He could see the faintest lines of crow's feet at the edges of her brown eyes, betraying her advancing age. Tendrils of dark wavy hair invaded her visage.

"This is not something you can ignore. There is a war coming. What happened to you will happen to everyone. What you have seen in these villages will become the _milder_, kinder reality for wizarding and non-wizarding kind alike."

He saw a line of tension in her jaw as she clenched her teeth. He continued.

"Death Eaters are ruthless, blood-thirsty, some border on the insane. And they serve one purpose, to bring death and destruction to every place they touch. Why? Because the Dark Lord wishes it so. Because he is so perverted by his lust for power that he will do anything and kill anyone in his way to attain it"

She blinked very slowly and Snape felt time's passage stretch like an elastic band as she licked her lips.

"How long as your civilization existed?" she asked.

"Hundred of years," he replied.

"And in those hundreds of years, has there never been major conflict? If you've remained secret for that long, you have ways to keep this within your borders"

In a practiced motion, she unclasped the cuff from her left wrist and showed Snape her unglamoured hand. She saw he was briefly mesmermized by the glimmering silver scales shifting as she flexed her fingers.

"We can't fight with you. We're only... normal people. You'd be leading the lambs to slaughter"

What an apt saying. He saw a flash of fire in her eyes. She seemed to think that would be the end of their conversation. He could sense from her body language that she was disengaging from their exchange. How presumptuous.

"I misspoke," he drawled.

"Oh?" she asked dryly, laying her hand in her lap.

"The Dark Lord does not kill indiscriminantly. He is in fact, very selective about whom he tortures and slaughters"

Erin resisted from reflexively backing away from Snape as he inched closer to her. His lip was contorting into an ugly sneer.

"He believes we wizards are superior to the rats who scurry under us without magic. He systematically finds those of unclean blood and eliminates them. The children of those mixed marriages are destroyed. He is a monster who will commit genocide on your people"

"A Holocaust," she croaked, her throat dry.

"Do you think you are so isolated?" he asked contemptuously.

"Your terrorists are more often Death Eater strikes. Your history is one that is distorted with memory charms. In my history, a bomb was delivered to the United States Senate in 1983 by a Death Eater. The Montreal Massacre of 1989 was the rampage of a known Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle"

"Everything that happens in our world has repercussions in yours, but you are too ignorant to notice"

Her heart was pounding in her chest. It was provided a frentic drumbeat to his low silken voice. The gravity of what he was telling her was just beginning to hit her. He was presenting her with the war chest. For all she knew, this was first contact between their respective worlds.

"I want proof," she said. "I can trust you, but-"

He was waiting for this moment. He had slowly been closing the distance between them and locked eyes with her. She vageuly recalled his lips moving.

"Legilimens!"

She was sucked into a rushing corridor of visions. Snippets of a dark haired boy and red-haired girl, fast forward to when they were adults. Her shock that it was Snape's very own childhood was soon replaced by horror as she saw him come upon her lifeless body. Fast forward again to being recruited by Dumbledore. And then it was images upon images of sinister faces, shots of green and red light, and death. So much torture and death.

She felt the loathing he felt as he was forced to inflict curses on muggles. His comrades laughed and spit on the poor souls, then took turns themselves. It was cruelty turned into sport. To them, she was just an animal.

She was given an image of an enormous skull in the sky with a snake coming out of its mouth. Its meaning was clear, it was the Dark Lord's sign, and it marked every area he touched with death. His reach was wide and deep.

As quickly as she'd be taken into his memories, she was ejected from them. Her head lurched back, hitting the window with a loud crack. She righted herself quickly. "

Oh my God," she gasped, looking at him with new eyes.

Though it was harshly done, she knew he was right. She couldn't refuse him. He had shown her his memories, and they held terrible things. "What did you have in mind?" she asked, there were no other questions now.

He felt a satisfied thrill in his chest. The atmosphere between them had changed. Everything was going according to plan.

"Eyes. Spies. If you can get word back to your colleagues back in the States, that's even better. The Dark Lord's hold is only strongest in Europe. We'll give you information to pass on to local governments so they can react better to these so-called 'terrorist attacks'. With any luck, the wizards nearby will see through the cover stories and come together"

She bit the inside of her lip. It seemed easy enough to do. She just wasn't sure how Jonathan would react to her sudden interest in being a political lackey. She had shown such disdain for that type of doctor. Money-grubbing low lifes.

"Protection, for us?" she asked.

"You'll be watched," he said mysteriously.

She shook her head.

"More than eyes. I need you or someone else with us, 24/7"

He regarded her carefully.

"I applaud your caution, it's a useful sense," were his last words before he disapparated, leaving the seat empty.

Erin was in shock for a moment, then fell back into her seat. The nerve!

She mentally replayed their exchange behind closed eyes. She hadn't expected to be convinced of the cause so quickly. But the memories were filled with such powerful emotions, there was no way they could have been falsified. The Dark Lord- Voldemort, was a man who had to be brought down.

She opened her eyes again and shook herself to get rid of the shivers. The blissful safety and beauty of her surroundings had been robbed by Snape. All she could see now were shadows were evil things lived.


End file.
